Good Feminist

Dear Diary,

 So, I was making my way back from midtown when my phone rang. I checked and it was my friend Amanda—who is from, and still living in, Colorado. Of course, my first thought is: why are you calling me in the middle of the day like a psycho? Also, Colorado is three hours ahead (or behind...I dunno time is a relative concept) so by her standards she’s calling me at noon. Again, she is literally taking time out of her lunch break to call me, so I figured it was important.

 With this in mind I answered, Hello. We barely get past pleasantries when she says:

            -I hate to do this, but I need to borrow money. I can pay you back on the fourth after I get paid, but things are tight right now.

I asked her, Why? I mean she has a full-time job and....while I love her, I don’t want to be her ATM. What if my giving her money enables her to make bad decisions? But that wasn’t the case at all.

            -Pay cuts in my district...I really don’t know how I can do this. I love my job but...

Then she starts to cry. Loud, rib breaking sobs...I honestly wondered if the people next to me on the train would hear her through the phone. I told her I’d help her, but she should really consider dancing for a little bit, at least until her school board pays her a living wage. But she said:

            -Look I really don’t know. As a feminist—

I cut her off. Is it feminist to struggle? Is it feminist to ask your parents or your boyfriend for money? Screw that. I’d rather be a bad feminist anyway, one who takes care of herself and her family.

 Anywho, I Venmo’d her the money. Then I hung up.